Always a First Time II
by Mindy35
Summary: Jack/Liz. The events of season two through Jack's eyes.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Always a First Time II

Author: Mindy

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Definitely not mine.

Spoilers: Can I just say ALL of season 2 is up for grabs?

Summary: Jack/Liz. Jack finds out when it comes to Liz, there's a first time for everything.

II.

_We_

The first time Jack took Liz Lemon's hand in any way other than a mutually professional handshake, it was greasy with ham fat, despite having been wiped on her sock. And he hadn't cared one bit. That's how he knew just how bad he had it.

He didn't care that her glasses were sitting halfway down her nose, her hair was more of a mess than usual and she looked absolutely bonkers, sitting slumped in a wedding dress she knew as well as anyone she did not need. He hadn't cared that, in her distress, she was practically yelling at him or that her brow scrunched unattractively whenever she glared up at him.

What he cared about was getting her back on her feet, making her smile. What he cared about was restoring a little of that incredible optimism that she'd paraded about his office so recently and so flagrantly. What Jack cared about was helping his friend feel better. Because that's what they were – good friends.

So, he deliberately employed the O-word. Within his 'our' was an implied 'us', which was not that far off a 'we'. Jack hadn't been one half of a real, legitimate and lasting 'we' in a long, long time. And neither had Liz, he knew. Strangely enough, he didn't mind casting himself in a 'we' if that 'we' also included Liz Lemon. Lemon didn't seem to mind the veiled presumption either.

He saw the shift in her expression, the wary comfort of knowing someone was on her side, the faint relief of not feeling quite so alone. She stopped eating and peered up at him. She held his gaze instead of looking away again. She smiled – a small smile but a real one. And, for once in a relationship, Jack knew he'd said exactly the right thing at just the right time to precisely the right person.

He remembered feeling oddly comforted himself, and secretly pleased that whenever times might get tough, as they undoubtedly would, he could count on Lemon and likewise, was capable of being counted on by her. They were an odd match but a match nonetheless. He could feel the perfection of it as her palm slid into his.

And that was the moment when Jack knew for sure that the hiatus hadn't cured him nearly as well as he'd hoped. He'd kept his distance from Liz Lemon deliberately. He'd made every effort not to call her, tried not to even think of her. He'd traveled, dated, decompressed. He'd healed and fortified himself, without her constant company and support. He knew well how to starve an infatuation. He'd done it before, countless times and to great effect. It was pure common sense. Absence did not make the heart grow fonder, however old and indisposed that heart might be.

He had done absolutely everything within his power to rid himself of his strange inclination towards his strange friend. But, as Liz Lemon's grubby hand clasped his, Jack wondered whether his private diagnosis might have been absurdly inaccurate. Until then, he hadn't allowed himself to consider that the feelings he'd been developing over the past year might not be those of mere, fleeting infatuation.

For the first time, Jack wondered whether the changes happening in his heart indicated something far more acute.

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Always a First Time II

Author: Mindy

_-x-_

_Solace_

The first time Jack noticed that he didn't miss his cookie jar collection was the day that Liz Lemon delivered him an ultimatum and stormed out of his office. Not that he was particularly surprised or concerned by her behaviour. The combination of her erratic will and his innate stubbornness would have to have come to a head some day.

Either he was going to fire her or she was going to quit at some point. Frankly, he was amazed that it had taken as long as it did. He'd been waiting, perhaps even dreading, her inevitable resignation since the day they'd first met. He'd thought she was going to up and leave then. He'd thought she was going to fold and walk a million times since. But each time, Jack was blind-sighted by how relieved he felt when she never did.

The simple truth was, he liked having Liz Lemon around. He couldn't imagine _not_ having her around. 30 Rock would seem empty without her. And his work life would return to being as banal as he'd never thought it was until she stumbled into it. But he still fired her. She didn't leave him much of choice really. He had his reasons. And, if it was as inevitable as he believed, they might as well get it out of the way so the both of them could move past it. At least he would beat her to the punch.

So Jack fired Lemon, knowing that she'd be angry, knowing that she'd be shocked, and hoping like hell that any second he would witness her storm back into his office, eyes blazing as she demanded to be reinstated. He was prepared to fight her on it. Actually, he was rather looking forward to a protracted tug-of-war with Liz Lemon and was more than slightly disappointed when it didn't eventuate.

He'd been positive she wouldn't outlast the day without her precious show. She was like a junkie and he had her fix. He'd thought all he had to do was be patient and wait. After all, Liz Lemon was as predictable a creature as he'd ever met. Well, predictable to him at least. From the very beginning, he'd had the knack of being able to read her, right to the core. And after a year or so of hesitant friendship, he could practically complete her sentences. Even the ones that started with 'dude', which was ever so slightly disheartening.

But by evening, as Jack looked out over the darkened city, still expecting her return, he had to wonder just how long she would make him wait. He was fairly certain that her little tantrum would be short-lived. They generally were. Her temper might be hot when pricked but it fizzled almost comically fast, like she didn't even have faith in her own rage. Still, for a woman of such intelligence, she could also be confoundedly slow on the uptake.

He hoped she didn't drag it out. Then he would have to deal with Pete instead of her and, perhaps it was shallow, but he simply preferred talking to someone with a good head of hair. Otherwise, he got distracted. Lemon also possessed other…qualities…that Hornberger, however talented a producer, clearly did not. Maybe Jack liked being in proximity to those qualities. Maybe they distracted him too sometimes (in a way that was hugely preferable). Maybe, Liz wasn't the only one with an addiction.

In any case, Jack began to ponder why it was that he understood Lemon the way he did but that she did not have the same insight when it came to him. Surely, she knew that he could never truly get rid of her. Surely, she understood that it was simply part of the battle-of-wills they'd always fought, always relished, always excelled at. Surely, she knew that her job was hers for the asking and he couldn't conceive of replacing her.

The very idea was preposterous. He'd have to do a nationwide search to find another Lemon and even then, he's not sure how successful he'd be. He'd always considered her one of a kind, despite some of her more conventional tendencies. And even that afternoon had seemed lonelier and emptier with each passing minute that she failed to appear.

He was just starting to consider going over to her apartment to settle the issue when he heard Lemon's voice behind him. Not angry. Not resentful. Not even entitled. In typical Lemon style, she opened with a joke. And in atypical Donaghy style, he did not gloat or negotiate or argue. He gave her exactly what she wanted, because apparently that was his modus operandi when it came to this particular woman.

As Jack stood beside Lemon on the terrace that had been starting to feel so solitary and puny, he felt a sense of well-being wash over him. A feeling that all was right with the world and that anything that wasn't could easily be fixed. It was not a sentiment he indulged in frequently and the only thing he could acquaint it with was the secret satisfaction he used to feel when looking over his massive, beloved cookie jar collection.

The rows and rows of simple, humble ceramic shapes, with all their little imperfections and idiosyncrasies used to be his one solace and one indulgence. Nobody knew what joy he gleaned from them, from their smallest curl to their roundest curve. But since gifting the collection to Kenneth, he realized he hadn't thought about them once. He hadn't missed them once. He hadn't pined or mourned for them any longer than he mourned the ending of the various insignificant love affairs that filled out his lonely nights.

And the reason was clear to him. As clear as the night sky the two of them stood under, sipping their non-alcoholic wine. It was obvious really, and simple. He'd replaced them with something far more meaningful. He no longer craved the hollow abyss of a musty jar to pour his many troubles into. Because he had one thing now that he'd never had before.

Jack had someone who knew him and liked him and accepted him for exactly who he was. He had someone to hear his problems, who was warmer and funnier than ceramic, even if the ensuing feedback was equally as helpful. He had someone to keep his secrets and hold his hand (in the metaphorical sense). Someone to whom forgiveness came easy and communication was an oblique but acquired art form. Someone who relied on him and had faith in him and came to him with everything from her pettiest concerns to her deepest fears. Someone who could complete _his_ sentences – as long as they had nothing whatever to do with high finance.

Jack had always believed he'd had it all. For years, he'd laboured under the delusion that what he'd achieved was the extent of what mankind was capable of. He'd never even considered that there might be an essential piece of the puzzle missing. He'd never thought that all those fools out there looking for that special someone might actually be right. He'd always thought they were the deluded ones. It was only now that he understood how wrong he'd been.

Surely, there was a first time for everything.

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Always a First Time

Author: Mindy

-x-

_Susceptible_

The first time Jack realized that his friendship with Liz Lemon had somehow redefined his expectations of a romantic relationship was shortly after he met Celeste Cunningham. He remembered describing to Lemon what he found so appealing about the May-December relationship. And it occurred to him as he spoke that he might just as well have been describing his growing affinity with Lemon herself.

After all, he didn't remember any of the sparkling socialites he'd dated opening him up to new, unexpected experiences. None of the starlets had contributed fresh points of view and he couldn't think of one supermodel who'd dazzled him with their stimulating conversation, let alone delivered a decent joke or anecdote. Those were all pleasures he'd discovered more recently whilst keeping company with Liz Lemon. Her idiosyncrasies, her foibles, everything that made her opposite to him had swiftly become far more endearing than they ever were aggravating.

He even enjoyed the intriguing friction they sometimes provoked. He _especially _enjoyed the friction.

Jack had always assumed that it was Lemon who would eventually benefit from keeping his company. As her mentor, he hoped to mold her, support her, perfect her, steer her. Despite her initial reluctance, something of his flair and charisma, prowess and professionalism would have to rub off on her – and perhaps it still might. But while his protege seemed utterly ambivalent to and incapable of dramatic change, he was the one who was discreetly but irrevocably being transformed.

And the change was becoming all too apparent in his love life.

In the first place, there was Pheobe. When he met Pheobe, he was in a particularly vulnerable state. Being Lemon-less made him more susceptible than usual to a kind word or pretty face. And he never would've gravitated toward her so quickly if he hadn't felt the neurotic need to instantly enlist the first available Floydster (as Lemon implied he should). That had been the first time Jack seriously contemplated the more elusive and libidinous undertones he was not acknowledging in his motives towards his friend. They were probably the same motives that later prevented him telling Lemon when he began his new relationship with C.C.

In the second place, there was Celeste Cunningham. C.C. was not Jack's type in every single way that Liz Lemon could also never be. Except perhaps dress sense, in that C.C. had actually developed some, while Lemon evidently bypassed that rite of passage into full-fledged womanhood. The man he was before he met Liz would never have even looked twice at a woman like C.C. An oversight that he now understood was his error and his loss.

Jack had never concealed from Lemon who his 'type' was -- or that she didn't fit that exclusive profile. He'd always been very open with her about his relationships. He'd never hesitated to seek her opinion, however reluctant it might be. And generally, he liked getting Lemon's reaction on such matters. It usually proved to be entertaining, if not enlightening. So it felt extremely strange not to tell her about his night of doing it with the zealous Congresswoman. Stranger still was the fact that, for a reason he couldn't quite pinpoint, he was also rather relieved to have an excuse to keep their continuing love affair private.

It was not unusual for Jack to meet and bed a beautiful woman in the one night. It was rather unusual, however, for him to ask to see her again afterwards. It was not unusual for him to jump headfirst into a relationship, impulsively and unreservedly. But it was very unusual for the object of such devotion to be over the age of thirty-five. The fact that the woman in question was also a devoted Democrat, possessing all the obligatory integrity and idealism, as well being as a woman with a career and mind of her own, and that scarcely hidden beneath her conservative attire, was a once homely wallflower only made it more inexplicable. As well as more necessary for Jack to conceal. Even from his closest friend. Especially from her.

Furthermore, if, in the past, Jack had somehow found himself anomalously attracted to and engaged in a one night stand with the enemy, he never would have allowed himself to continue seeing her, as he did with C.C. He would not have permitted himself to become emotionally invested in what should never have been anything more than a brief fling. Instead of entering into something so deeply detrimental to his career, image and ego, pre-Lemon Jack Donaghy would've walked. And he wouldn't have looked back.

It wasn't simply that he was discovering the remarkable sexual chemistry of sleeping with his opposite. It was more than that. His heart had been altered, its defences breached and broken. He was suddenly susceptible like never before -- susceptible from the most unlikely of sources. He was open and exposed. And the reckless, passionate streak that he'd kept so well under wraps for most of his life was coming to the fore.

He'd always known it existed. And he had always hoped he would have the chance to love again. He just hadn't remembered how inconvenient it could be. Not to mention demoralizing.

If he was honest, on some level, Jack held Lemon partially responsible. If she hadn't breached his heart first, none of it would've happened. If his defences hadn't been gradually, furtively lowered by her, C.C. could never have gained entry so easily. He could never have fallen for C.C. half as hard as he did, if he hadn't first fallen just a little for Liz Lemon, in all her subversive and unintentional charm. If not for Lemon, he doubted he'd have found himself clutching a bunch of flowers for a woman who was never going to show and being dumped over the phone with so little ceremony.

Jack had certainly had his share of unsuccessful relationships. But even after the most tempestuous of relationships, his heart remained sufficiently in tact. He'd always been the dump-ee, not the dumped upon. He'd always been the heartbreaker, not the heartbroken.

Sadly, there was a first time for everything.

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Always a First Time

Author: Mindy

-x-

_Tell_

The first time Jack deliberately sought tangible proof that Liz Lemon cared for him was after she verbally skewered him on Page Six. It wasn't that her words were particularly hurtful. He'd become accustomed to her propensity to shoot her mouth off at the most inappropriate moments. He would even admit to finding it somewhat endearing, if slightly baffling. And cleaning up her continual messes had become second nature to him.

What she'd said and to whom and how it was to be rectified was irrelevant though. If any other employee had done what she had done they would probably have found themselves out on the street, but Jack had other plans for Liz Lemon. What he saw was an opportunity. What he was interested in was just how far Lemon would go to avoid being the sole instrument of his torment. He wasn't sure he could get her, but he would relish trying.

And Jack was more than impressed by Liz's attempts to cheer and support and rescue him. He thoroughly enjoyed witnessing every effort she put into his consolation, assuming that those efforts came as much from true devotion as they did from her obvious deep guilt. He'd known she had it in her to be kind and caring. She'd just rarely turned that feeling on him -- perhaps supposing that he didn't require such assurance or assistance.

But it was a pleasant relief for Jack, being the one taken care of, as opposed to being the one taking care of everyone and everything. And if there was one person he was comfortable appearing vulnerable in front of, it was certainly Liz Lemon. He didn't know why that was or how it had come about. Because, generally, he was a man beyond fragility or the need to share it with another. But he felt an odd symbiosis with Lemon when she considered them both freaks of a similar ilk. She was so sweet to him, earnestly imparting her baby-foot story, that he almost regretted shattering the whole illusion.

Of course, Jack had to recognize that the very fact he put such time and effort into manipulating Liz Lemon possibly did not bode well. Manipulation was usually a tactic he reserved for long-term lovers, members of his family or opponents he was enormously suspicious of. Liz Lemon was none of these. Liz Lemon was meant to be his friend. Even after all the stupid and insensitive things they'd both said about one another, she was his friend and he didn't hold any of it against her.

And she probably did not understand that to a Donaghy, trickery and manipulation was their intrinsic way of displaying deep affection. It was the only tradition they possessed and the one thing on which they could all agree. It was the way they'd been brought up and the way they all still flourished. Lemon had witnessed it first hand when she'd met his family and subsequently been hit in the face by his sister during an all-in family brawl. An incident that Jack now viewed with rather a sentiment eye. To him, it indicated a sort of an initiation for Lemon and made him feel quite proud.

As did the resolve with which his Mother set out to destroy the Lemon family's bliss when they'd spent time together over Christmas. Watching it was like viewing a train wreck in slow motion, but Jack hadn't been able to look away or do anything to assist. For once, he was not entirely sure that his mother's vindictiveness would prevail over the Lemon's cheerfulness. But he was thrilled by the spectacle. Probably not as thrilled as his mother was though, by at last having an opponent worthy of being taken down so gradually and gloriously.

Seeing Lemon with her family was oddly curious for Jack. Certainly, he gleaned new insight into her character by seeing her in context to her past. And as touched as he undoubtedly was by being embraced so swiftly by the type of warm, loving family he'd never had as a child, he couldn't help but note how different she was with them. Nor could he help but inwardly cheer when the real Lemon, the Lemon he knew, shone through the phony harmony.

So caught up in his glee was he that Jack neglected to inform Lemon, who was less acquainted with his mother's tactics, that the fact she put such time and energy into manipulating her and her family was a huge sign of respect, possibly even affection. Colleen had never bothered to mess in such a way with any of his previous girlfriends, friends or even his ex-wife. The most Pheobe had gotten was a snide comment or dismissive roll of the eyes. Bianca had found that the only way to deal with his mother was to treat her the way she treated others, thereby earning some skerrick of her approval.

Jack was not sure what Lemon ever did to garner such affection and attention from his mother. Since meeting her, Colleen had taken to treating her like one of the family – even badgering her with constant phone calls to check on the regularity of her cycle. But however she'd accomplished winning over his mother so effortlessly, it did mean that Lemon was fair game. Not that Jack feared that she couldn't hold her own. If anyone was used to dealing with criticism and aggravation it was Liz (as Colleen called her -- just the fact that she chose to remember her name was unprecedented, and astonishing to Jack).

But perhaps the reason his mother had been so intent on attacking Liz had less to do with her and more to do with _him_. Colleen was nothing if not shrewd. She could spot a weakness a mile off. It was one of the reasons that Jack was so intolerant of weakness himself. He was expert at spotting it in others. And he'd thought he'd rid himself of all traces of human frailty years before. Some people had facial ticks or vocal inflections that gave them away. Some people giggled, some people fidgeted. Some people just babbled their way into a corner. Jack prided himself on being beyond such imperfection and the betrayal of it. He had no such foolish defect.

He had a whole other person instead.

As he walked Lemon out after that crazy night of games, Jack wondered whether others could spot it as easily as his mother apparently had. He wondered whether it was obvious to everyone that saw them together that his one weakness, his one big tell was the woman at his side. Whatever she did, he'd forgive her. Whatever mess she created, he'd unravel it. Whatever she needed, he'd find a way to obtain it. And whatever happened during the course of his day, she was the one he needed to talk it over with.

For the first time in a long time, Jack Donaghy had a tell and it's name was Liz Lemon. He couldn't get rid of it, he didn't wish to get rid of it. And it was a dead give away to any one who looked closely enough. She made him vulnerable in a way he'd never been before, she was the one chink in his otherwise impenetrable armour.

After all he'd forfeited and accomplished, a woman was his living, breathing Archilles heel. And not just any woman either. This woman could make or break him -- it could go either way. No one in his life had ever held such sway over Jack Donaghy. He'd never had a weakness that sheer willpower couldn't overcome.

Obviously, there was a first time for everything.

_TBC..._


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Always a First Time

Author: Mindy

-x-

_Crush_

The first time Jack genuinely could not face Lemon was after he was banished from the fifty-second floor to the twelfth. Don Geiss was in a coma, Kathy Geiss had been installed in his office and an e-mail bearing cats in bow-ties was circulating the entire building. The shame of it all was simply too much to bear.

It was generally at times like these that he immediately sought out his friend and confidant. But this time, he felt the irrational urge to avoid her for as long as possible. Or at least long enough for him to regain his composure. Whether it was Lemon who'd become more expert at reading him or him who'd become too transparent, Jack knew it couldn't be long before either she guessed that something was wrong or he cracked under the pressure. Liz's insight tended to be inconsistent though, so odds were, it would be the second one.

In the past, Jack hadn't cared how weak or neurotic or insane he might appear to Lemon. Next to her incurable mass of neuroses, he was an undeniable pillar of strength. And Lemon had a sweet, supportive streak that, while well hidden, was increasingly accessible to him. Because of her own insecurities, she was rarely judgemental, naturally empathetic and always available. She gave precisely the kind of support Jack liked and required.

Once, a long time ago it seemed, he'd called her in the middle of the night to be witness to his first official meltdown in years. It occurred to him later that he'd done so at a time when they were not really friends yet. It was probably even before Liz liked him or knew him that well. But nothing endeared a person to another – particularly one as unstable as Lemon – more than a bonafide breakdown. He couldn't have orchestrated it better if he'd tried. Which he certainly hadn't. True, he had been looking for ways to convince her that he wasn't the devil incarnate. But he wasn't that good of an actor. His distress had been genuine, as was her compassion. And overnight, they'd been transformed from occasional enemies and reluctant colleagues to true allies.

After the disaster that was Lemon's foray into the world of corporate America, Jack was on the verge of another bonafide breakdown. There was only one person to blame for the sudden downward spiral of his career -- and it wasn't the woman who'd unwittingly put his boss into a coma. Lemon was simply being Lemon, and frankly Jack felt he should've known better. He'd been blinded by her inadvertent show of loyalty. Blinded by the fact that he'd wanted to take her with him, wanted to keep her close. Blinded by how easily she'd charmed his colleagues with her irreverent raillery.

So blinded was he that Jack forgot that his other attempts to fashion Liz Lemon into something she wasn't, something he wanted her to be, had been abject failures. He should've foreseen another disaster, but he didn't. He'd lost his focus, his objectivity. He'd lost his infamous edge. And for the first time in his life, Jack didn't know what his next move would be. He'd never felt so defeated. He wasn't just disappointed, he was crushed.

The last person he wanted to see him in such a desolate state was Liz Lemon. So, of course, the one person to step onto the elevator with him, when all he wanted was a moment of solitude, was Lemon. Jack could barely look her in the eye. His smile was unconvincing even to himself. And he'd fled from her presence as quickly as he could. Because it was becoming increasingly difficult to withhold from her. And more painful by the minute to disassociate from her.

He was not comfortable with such an intense level of dependency. It made him feel dazed and powerless. It was one thing to value a person's opinion but quite another to rely on it completely. It was one thing to need a friend, and quite another to spend the entire day wandering their workplace in search of them. Relying on anyone or anything had been against his rules up until then. Jack's secret strength was that he depended on no man – or in this case, no woman. Anything he couldn't procure himself was not worth having.

Perhaps he'd grown closer with Lemon. Perhaps at one time he'd even had a slight crush on her. But such a sentiment had been squelched a long time ago. He'd seen to it – quickly and ruthlessly. Any residual feeling was simply due to him never having shared such a close friendship with a woman before. Their daily proximity was also a factor in his dependency, as was the fact that Lemon was indescribably unique. She had a way of getting under a person's skin without them even knowing.

Jack was sure he wasn't the first man to be Lemoned, and doubtless, he would not be the last. He would certainly be the one that recouped his losses most swiftly and moved on though. Because Jack Donaghy was not a man to make the same mistake twice. Nor was he to be made a fool of by anyone, no matter how insidiously alluring. So when Lemon literally ran from him, once again in pursuit of a man who'd already been stupid enough to let her slip through his fingers once, Jack felt something in his chest stretch and then irrevocably snap.

It was like an exact replay of the year before. He needed her. And she was anywhere but where he needed her to be. The big difference was in how Jack felt about that. He wasn't angry, he wasn't offended. He wasn't even surprised. Lemon had the sort of oblivious self-absorption that most people grow out of after puberty. It was one characteristic the two of them shared.

The fact that she was rushing after another man barely registered with him. Because this time, when Lemon ditched him, Jack merely felt resigned, and possibly a little lost. Perhaps it was his own fault. Perhaps he'd refrained from telling her the truth too many times. Perhaps his habitual withholding had become a cage he couldn't even free himself of. Perhaps he ought to take his own advice once in a while and minimize his regrets. Perhaps he was the idiot, the coward who had let something special slip through his fingers more than once.

All he knew for certain was that it was one mess he would have to figure out alone, one burden which would not be relieved by her sarcasm and support. Which was possibly for the best. It was how things were meant to be. He was not the type to walk through the world with someone at his side and he'd never aspired to be. He'd never asked for that, never craved it. He'd wanted to be 'friendly', but he'd never asked for a best friend. He'd never required her to be his shadow. It had simply happened by default. It was an unforeseeable accident that she would become as essential to him as she had or that he would come to care as much as he did.

Possibly, it was best that he get away, start over, regain his sense of purpose away from the endless shenanigans of 30 Rock. Maybe, all he needed was a little perspective, a little distance. He needed to rediscover those killer instincts of his and learn to rely on his own judgement again. He needed to locate the old Jack Donaghy, the one who'd kicked down a door two years before and who recklessly changed things just to make them his own.

He didn't know how, he didn't know when, and he didn't know why, but somewhere along the line, he'd changed. Deeply and fundamentally. He wasn't sure that that old incarnation of himself still existed; whether he'd recognize that other man if he saw him in the mirror. Or if he even liked him. More to the point, he didn't know whether the man he used to be was half the man he'd since become. Or if who he was now was who he had always been deep down, and that it had simply taken one particular person to bring out it in him.

Jack Donaghy had never had an identity crisis before. Particularly not one brought on by a woman.

Without doubt, there was a first time for everything.

_TBC..._


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Always a First Time

Author: Mindy

A/N:Thanks to all those who have reviewed. This one took a lot of time and energy and it's great to get responses back, especially ones that say I've got it right and that these musings of mine/Jack's have been enjoyed. Enjoy this last one and thanks again. M.

-x-

_Home_

It was when he was on the plane home to New York that it occurred to Jack what all the first times added up to. Perhaps he'd never sat down and looked at them in context, without distraction or interruption. Perhaps his short time in D.C. had allowed him to view them with a newer perspective. Perhaps he'd been blind for two years, or in denial, or both.

But suddenly, Jack couldn't wait to get home.

He'd never really had a home to speak of. The house he lived in growing up was more like a battleground in which he was generally not the strongest competitor. The house he'd shared with Bianca was also a place of intermittent animosity followed by extreme loneliness whenever she inevitably stormed out. His current apartment in New York was spacious and comfortable and impressive. It was his place of relaxation and relief but not what he would call a home.

A home was somewhere that laughter resided and love was comfortable. A home was where one was never alone and never afraid. A home was somewhere that was simple and warm and real. At times it might be messy, but it was where a person was always welcome to come in and stay for as long as they wanted. A place someone could truly and lastingly belong. A home was not a physical place but a feeling. Something that couldn't be bought or sold, but only created with the right combination of people.

His right combination was in New York, and he wasn't just thinking of the group of misfits he'd come to love at TGS. To be more specific, his right combination was probably alone in her apartment, mourning the loss of a child who never was, with no idea that he was on his way. It wouldn't occur to Lemon that a man might get on a plane and cross states just to see her, just to make sure she was alright. Just because he missed her face. Most of the men she'd been involved with probably wouldn't even bother to get in a cab and tackle the New York City traffic for her.

Jack was rather pleased to be the man who'd give her that particular first. A man who would go anywhere for her, do anything for her, be there through thick and thin. He knew Lemon wouldn't reproach him for not being there in her time of need. He knew she would simply pick up their rapport as though it had never been interrupted. It eased his guilt somewhat to know that, but did not dissipate it altogether. Because really, he felt he should've been there for her. That was their way – a way he didn't wish to relinquish.

There were so many things he'd been deprived of for the sake of his career, so many things he'd given up for a job he mightn't ever secure. He didn't intend to let his relationship with Lemon fall by the wayside of some dream that didn't exist. She was the one thing he'd held onto in the past few years and the one thing he adamantly refused to give up.

Actually, Jack had wished on more than one occasion that Liz would make a few more demands on him than she did. There was not much that she really expected of him – perhaps that was more a reflection of her own past relationships. He himself was practiced at dealing with fairly high-maintenance women. But Lemon's pathetically low expectations only made him want to give more than he'd ever demanded of himself in a relationship before.

Typically, Jack was a man who avoided real commitment. Women had always been a necessary diversion. After Bianca and before Liz, the incessant parade of women was an enjoyable side project for him. Something that came easy to him, but did not touch his heart deeply. There had never been just one who became a true priority. Only one had come close.

A few months prior, Jack would've been thrilled with the idea of being able to join C.C. in D.C. He'd genuinely thought that he'd found the one person he actually wanted to be a lasting past of his life. And in a way, he'd been right – he had found that person. But seeing C.C. again in Washington only cemented his determination to return as swiftly as possible to his true home, and to the one person with whom he already shared most aspects his life, whether he or she realized it or not.

Until recently, the love of Jack's life had been his job. And in its absence, he had begun questioning what else he possessed of true value. And when he considered Liz Lemon and all the various firsts she'd inflicted on him, he found himself poised in every moment to make the biggest commitment of all.

When he'd told her that morning that nothing was left for him at GE, it couldn't have been further from the truth. After what happened with his long-anticipated promotion, there were only two people in the world who could've gotten him on the first plane back to New York and Don Geiss was not the person on whose door he eventually knocked. Jack hoped that Liz would instinctively understand that he needed to see her as much as she needed to see him.

When Lemon opened the door, her apartment was warm and soft with candlelight, her clothes were comfy and familiar and her face showed mild but pleased surprise. She did not invite him in, she just wordlessly allowed him entry, immediately relaying the details of her pregnancy scare that would've made her seem so far away if he'd heard them over the phone. It was such an enormous relief to be back in her presence that Jack found himself appreciating all the everyday little things about her that before he'd always taken for granted. Like the sound of her voice, the habitual mess of her hair, the way her 'L' pendant hung a perfect distance above her cleavage. Like how cheerfully she accepted his help now and how casually she asked him about his day. He almost expected her to finish the sentence with 'honey'. Either way, it was _that _that really did it.

He'd been a fool to think he could leave. He'd been a fool to ever think he could get on without her or she could get on without him. He knew where he belonged, he knew where his home was. There was no way he could waive being witness to the various ups and downs of Liz Lemon's life, all the many firsts that were yet to come. She had become the undisputed centre of his world. She was his happy place, his safe place and he was pretty sure that he was the same for her. At least, he knew he wanted to be.

So the first time Jack told Liz Lemon how he felt, the moment he felt it, without withholding or requiring anything in return, was later that night when they were sitting on her couch, an empty bag of Sabor de Soledad between them and the candles burnt practically to stubs. His arm had been resting on the back of the couch and her hair brushed his hand when she tipped her head back, her eyes heavy with cheese-curl-induced lethargy.

Lemon responded to his words by blinking at him skeptically. "Is that the cheese-curls talking? Are they messing with your man-mones?"

Jack smiled at her. "I don't think so."

"Well, yeah…" she nodded: "I missed you too, Jack. I mean, you weren't gone that long but--"

"Perhaps it wasn't so much the time, as it was the distance," he replied. He shifted slightly closer on the couch then went on: "Lemon, have you ever done something thinking it was the right thing at the time only to discover that the right thing was what you already had but then you weren't sure you could find your way back there?"

She shrugged. "Sure. I guess."

Jack let out a breath. "I suppose even the most successful of men is not immune to mistakes."

"Well…" she yawned loudly: "there's a first time for everything, so they say."

"Exactly," he murmured, aware that his eyes glowed as he looked at her: "I knew you'd understand."

Liz lifted her head from the couch and pulled a cushion into her lap: "Does that mean you're coming back? 'Cause I realized when you were just…gone all of a sudden that…there were things…you know, things…unfinished. Lots of stuff we never said, or, or did."

Jack was silent for a moment. "For instance?"

"Well," she replied with a goofy smile: "I never showed you my roof for one."

"Your roof?" he repeated then paused before adding: "That's not a euphemism for something is it, Lemon?"

She sighed, apparently too tired to look revolted by his innuendo: "It really isn't. When I say roof, I do mean…roof."

"I see," he nodded, trying not to betray any sort of disappointment.

Liz shook her head, told him preemptively: "You shouldn't knock it til you try it, Jack. It's…pretty awesome up there."

"You…wish to show me your roof?" he murmured lowly, tipping his head at her: "now?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, cut her eyes to one side: "Why, is that weird?"

Jack got to his feet. Held out a hand. "Lemon. I thought you'd never ask."

The first time Jack found the courage to kiss Liz Lemon was as they stood on her roof, gazing out over the well-known, lit-up skyline. Liz's cheeks were pink, her eyes shinning. Jack had to admit the view was lovely. The city looked quite nice too.

He reached out to wind her scarf more fully around her neck and then leant in to kiss her forehead, right above the tip of one eyebrow. He didn't say anything for a moment. She didn't say anything for a moment. She smiled and he reached out to tuck away a strand of hair that blew across her face.

"Welcome home," she murmured then added: "…the Jacker." She paused to pull a face. "Wow, that really does not work."

"It certainly doesn't," he smiled: "and I am not back yet--"

She poked his chest encouragingly: "But you will be."

"Sooner than you think, Lemon," he nodded, breathing in the New York air: "Thankyou for bringing me up here."

Liz turned to look out at the view: "Anytime, Jack."

Jack smiled and felt something in him relax. Give way, give in, release and relieve.

It certainly wasn't all he wanted to express to Liz Lemon. But it was a start. A kiss on the forehead was still a kiss. It was still a first. And some other firsts were worth waiting for. After all, there was no strict timeframe for what they were to one another. They'd gotten this far -- further than he ever thought they'd be – without ever intending to. And Jack didn't believe in rushing a good thing. For once, he felt no urge to strive or claim or press on. There was nothing to fight for or against, nothing to do but let things take their natural course.

For the first time in his life, Jack Donaghy didn't want to be anywhere other than exactly where he was. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was truly where he'd always belonged.

_END._


End file.
